Septagon Series I: The Secret Society
by Kurugian Realm
Summary: Massive AU, Alt!school, Independent!Harry. There is a world, most ancient, most secretive, where magical beings live in unison, where wizards are looked down upon. What will Harry Potter do when he discovers that he is no mere wizard.
1. Part I: The Search: Chapter I

Somewhere, in a darkened room sat a squatted figure in a circle that was carved in the granite floor. In the center of this circle was a circular dais with a diameter of about 60 inch. The room itself was remarkable. It was gigantic and had the form of an exact geometrical septagon, but most interestingly it had no doors or windows.

The figure, who didn't appear to be entirely human, sat before the dais, wearing nothing more then a gleaming white loin cloth. He was bald, but a braided strand of Myrtle Green hair flowed down from the top center of his head. The loin cloth he wore was made of a type of silk and had tiny symbols of some sort embroidered on the edges that sent off a pale silvery glow.

On the dais were several items neatly placed, some of which were placed on linen cloth. There were cubes of wax in different colors, some knifes with symbols carved into their blades, a petroleum burner, a huge crystal bowl, a sieve, bronze scales, a few ladles, a few glass flasks holding colored liquids, and some gemstones.

As he sat there, his eyes swept over the dais for the last time, mentally checking if every item laid in its proper place. Not that he doubted it, it was his job after all. But one little mistake, one minuscule protuberance within the wax could easily snuff out his candle of life.

He couldn't have that. Not with all the people who always praised him for his skills, not with all his fellow ceromancers who saw him go up in rank faster then a bird took to the air, not with all his wise mentors who had brought him to his current level. He certainly wouldn't want to disappoint the Ceromaster who had let it slip that he was a promising candidate for becoming the next Ceromaster despite his youth. No, dying was the least of his options and too many fools had died because of rushing into a session.

The ceromancer sighed. Suddenly he brought the back of his left hand towards his forehead in a fluid motion. After it came in contact with his forehead he brought back his hand and opened his eyes. Then he pointed towards a flask that hold a golden liquid.

As soon as he did that the flask uncorked and began to hover above the dais. The cork came flying towards him and he swiftly caught it with his left hand. Then he began to chant while the flask started to move slowly towards the edge of the circle.

Ah-ran-zee, Ban-zee  
Cerax oo-vra-nkee.  
Naq-naq aoree,  
Neg xzal-oo-ee!

The words of the chant were very ancient and amongst the most powerful within the field of ceromancy. it was one of the best kept secrets amongst ceromancers and was not revealed until a graduated ceromancer took on an apprenticeship with a classified mentor. The mentor would, upon acceptance, whisper the words into the left ear of the apprentice, then he would speak a warning not to use them yet into the right ear. It had become a long standing tradition amongst ceromentors.

Using "The Chant" as it was referred to, was immensely complex. each single word of the chant has seven different definitions which must be remembered when chanting. It sure takes a lot of practice to accomplish that. And when one definition is not remembered correctly it may as well be that your life is on the line.

The flask had arrived at the edge of the circle at the exact same moment the last word of 'The Chant' had been spoken. Then the flask tilted and poured its contents into the carved circle on the granite floor. Once the liquid touched it, it spread around the circle and began to shiver violently. Suddenly the circle of golden liquid began to glow which created a golden mist. The mist flew towards the ceiling creating a barrier of golden mist which sealed the circle from intrusion. The ceromancer nodded. The room was prepared for his session.

-x-

He had been meditating for over an hour inside the circle. It was necessary, performing ceromancy doesn't go without danger. Ones utmost concentration was needed unless one had a death wish. The ceromancer who had been sitting there, still squatted, opened his eyes and briefly inspected the space within the barrier. If something was amiss, he better leave right now. Luckily he found nothing to be amiss and decided to finally start his session.

Two cubes of wax hovered in the direction of two of the knives, one of the cubes was baby blue, the other baby pink. They would soon be symbolizing gender. The knives shot up, as if they were predators with the wax as their prey, and began to chop into the cubes. A few minutes later, two simple humanoid wax figures were chopped out of the wax. The figures were not larger then the index finger of an adult man, and were not at all detailed. The only thing that made them to be considered humanoid was that they both had a head, two arms and two legs. They hovered towards the bronze scales and rested there for a few seconds, each on their own scale. Then they hovered towards the crystal bowl in which they became still.

While the figures were hovering towards the crystal bowl, a flask with an orange liquid persecuted them and emptied its liquid into the bowl which was immediately absorbed by the two wax figures. The petroleum burner flared up and a flask with a liquid that had the color of water emptied itself into the bowl. Thereafter a ladle hovered towards the crystal bowl and stirred three times counter clockwise before it hovered back to its place on the dais.

The crystal bowl hovered carefully towards the petroleum burner and stilled itself just out of reach of the flame. The liquid in the bowl started to boil and the two wax figures started to deform. Another liquid was poured into the bowl, this time a forest green liquid. The contents within the bowl started to sizzle and swirl. Quickly a knife hovered towards a night blue cube of wax and began to cut. Meanwhile the sizzling liquid in the bowl started to boil over. A cut piece of the blue wax hovered quickly towards the bowl and dropped itself. The sizzling, swirling and over boiling stopped. "Phew that was close."

The knives were cutting figures out of a lime green cube of wax. It was necessary to determine the continent of a yet unknown mage. When the knives were done the figures hovered towards the bowl and dropped their selves. WHAM! the contents of the bowl started foaming and awful steam and smell rose up from the concoction. "Masr help me!" cursed the ceromancer while he directed the knifes to cut into a black piece of wax which was deposed onto the bowl. It didn't work. "Red, White!" The ceromancer thought franticly. A fraction of a second later the knives were cutting into a red and white cube of wax. "Purple!" Another knife started cutting into a purple cube while the red and white wax figures flew towards the bowl which contents had started to swirl and sizzle again.

"Faster!" the ceromancer commanded the knife that was cutting into the purple wax. The figure detached itself and hovered at top speed towards the bowl. As soon as it dropped itself the petroleum burner went out, a clean ladle hovered towards the bowl and stirred the concoction one time clockwise before it turned back to its place on the dais. A black damp smelling like sulphur rose up from the bowl. "Masr, no!" he thought panicked.

"Conglacio!" called the ceromancer with his hand outstretched. The contents of the bowl froze at once including the damp that hang above the bowl.

"Centigradius Venti!" The concoction warmed up to exactly twenty degree Celsius.

"Migro-" BOOM! "-Sospito!" the ceromancer called out desperately.

The bowl was transported to safety at the exact moment that the sulphuric fumes lashed itself onto the ceromancer who fell with a thud onto the floor due to the disrupting magic that attached itself onto his body.

Then his world went black.

-x-

"Master Aldrick, Master Aldrick!" A young security goblin ran into the ornately decorated room. The old ceromaster looked up from the scroll he was studying and asked in the goblin's native tongue, "Why the rush, young goblin?" The goblin answered with a tone of urgency "Master, bad news. The Save-Orb of Thondsen has been flickering. The blood sample has turned black!"

Master Aldrick was shocked but quickly shook himself out of his stupor. "And do the logs have his current location?" he asked the goblin while turning a bracelet around his arm.

"The logs say he is in Session Cellar twelve." the goblin said hastily.

The ceromaster bit hard on his index finger until it bled. Then he put his bleeding finger to one of the beads on his bracelet. It glowed green for a moment then he spoke

"Ceromancers tower, speaking with Aldrick. Are you there?" A short moment later a voice sounded from his bracelet. "Life Guild, speaking with Alb. Present."

"We have a case fifteen ritual distortion in Cellar twelve. Over"

"Team on location in five minutes. Over."

"Thank you. End"

Master Aldrick tapped the bead again and healed his index finger, then he turned to the goblin and said "please be so kind to let them in will you?" The goblin nodded and sped towards the entrance.

-x-

He had been unconscious for over three weeks. His blood sample hadn't filtered out the black symptoms of death, but there still was a meager amount of hope because his Save-Orb was still flickering. The curers had been injecting various soma's to filter the sulphuric acids out of his body, the phrenologists had tried to repair the magical damage on his mind and the goblins were guarding the hospital on the ceromaster's orders. The auramancers had fled after seeing his completely black aura, even though it was their job to repair the magical channels. A lot of ceromancers had given up hope, even though they knew that his orb was still flickering. The ceromaster however was unconcerned. As soon as Thomdsen was brought to the hospital, he went to the Session Cellar and came out two hours later with the knowledge that Thondsen would live.

Currently however, Thondsen seemed to be awakening. A curer sped into his room, looked over some papers that had been placed there to monitor the patient's health, took out a magnetic cube from one of her pockets and attached it to an indent on the headboard of the bed in which the ceromanncer was laying. Then she took a kaleidoscope from a shelf, put it on a tripod that was standing at the other side of the bed, and attached another magnetic cube to the upper side of the instrument.

She tapped the cube on the instrument with a reddish gemstone and looked through the lens. The magical enhanced beads of glass within the kaleidoscope began to move and finally settled down into a symmetric pattern. Then she took a piece of papyrus from a table on which a kaleidoscopic pattern was painted. It had been recorded nine months ago when Thondsen had came by for his yearly checkup. She keenly compared the two patterns and breathed a sigh of relief. He had been lucky.


	2. Part I: The Search: Chapter 2

The ceromancer had been released from the hospital two days prior. Currently he sat in his office with a crystal bowl on a table in front of him. It was the result of his last session that had landed him in a hospital bed for over three weeks.

He looked over the edge of the bowl and a dozen or so solidified wax figures greeted him from within the bowl. Thereafter he took out a sheet of papyrus, a wire and an obsidian shard from a briefcase, that was rested against one of the legs of his chair, and put them on the table. Then he attached one side of the wire onto the bowl, the other side onto the shard, and set the shard onto the papyrus. It immediately began to scribble furiously, creating a holographic copy of the bowl's contents. When it was finished he took the shard from the sheet, detached the wire on both sides and put the items back into his briefcase. Then he closely examined the hologram.

There were nine star-shaped figures inside the bowl. Three dark blue, Two white, two black, one gray and one purple. There was also a forest green figure that appeared to be a snake of some sort and an odd piece of red wax that seemed to have the shape of a lightening bolt.

The ceromancer shook his head in bewilderment. "That couldn't be right. Had he miscounted?" He counted the stars a second time. It were indeed nine stars total. Just to make sure he counted them for a third time. Still nine. It seemed as if his ceromancy had connected with the magic of a powerful unregistered mage.

He searched the hologram for the two figures he knew were there, but hadn't yet been examined. These remaining figures would tell him the gender of the newfound mage and in which part of the world he lived.

The baby blue orb he spotted signified that the newfound mage had to be a boy, but when he found the lime green figure he noted that it seemed to be deformed. "hmm... peculiar.." The ceromancer thought to himself. "I wonder what caused it to deform."

Every ceromancer in training learned that the deformation of ceromantic figures were an extreme oddity. if a session went wrong, there were often no figures at all, or all of the figures were deformed beyond recognition. Not to mention that the ceromancer would have died, making the session as a whole invalid.

Of course Simin Thondsen was aware of these facts, but as he had never seen a deformed ceromantic figure he had no idea how to interpret the piece. Picking up the hologram and the crystal bowl he left his office and went down the hallway in search of the ceromaster. He had to see this.

-x-

The ceromaster was sitting in his chambers working on a piece of graphomancy. In front of him stood an easel with a canvas stretched on it that held a circular painting. On a table to his right side laid a palette with several colored liquids and a set of pens and brushes. Just as he painted a few dots on the canvas he heard a knock on his door. He Laid his brush back on the table and called out: "come in!"

The door opened and Thondsen came strolling into his room carrying a ceromantic bowl and a sheet of papyrus. "Forgive me for the disturbance, Master." he spoke humbly, "There is something in here that you may want to see."

The old ceromaster shot a curious glance towards young Thondsen, and with a flick of his hand rearranged the room he had been working in. The easel and all the painting supplies vanished and an empty table and chair appeared from out of nowhere, landing exactly in front of him. Then, with a broad gesture towards the unoccupied chair, he said: "A good day to you, Adept Thondsen. Please take a seat."

Simin Thondsen took the chair and placed the items he was carrying between them on the table. Then he spoke:  
"Master, the continental variable turned out to be deformed. As I never had the opportunity to study such a rare occurrence before, I am not sure how i must interpret the figure."

The ceromaster peered inside the bowl, thereafter he keenly studied the holographic copy. Then he said: "Young Thondsen, this is indeed something very remarkable. I am glad you showed it to me."

He took out a moonstone from one of his pockets and draw an intricate pattern in the air, just above the bowl. The bowl shimmered, and a moment later an identical bowl with contents therein appeared on the table. The ceromaster took the duplicate and fished out the sixteen waxen figures. and carefully examined them. Then he mumbled. "Hmm.. you have found a powerful mage, it seems. Now, if we only knew where he is located..."

Thondsen was studying the lime green figure that was laying on the table. Suddenly his brows shot up. Then he pointed towards a tiny carving in one side of the deformation and asked: "Master, Could this be the sigil of Niflheim City?"

The ceromaster lifted the continental variable up from the table and held it close to his eyes. "Perhaps, young adept." he mused. "However, we certainly cannot be sure. As the sigil of Niflheim is the same as the sigil for Air, it may as well be an indication towards one of the skills of this exceptionally gifted mage."

The both of them sat there silent for a moment, each of them occupied with their own thoughts. Then Thondsen suddenly opted: "Master, Perhaps we need the help of some of the other guilds to track down this mage."

Sir Aldrick nodded. "That is a very wise idea." he said while turning the bracelet around his left arm. Thereafter he conjured a needle with whom he pricked his right index finger. Just before he tapped the slightly bleeding finger towards one of the beads on the bracelet, he added: "We also might want to inform Hekas Headmistress."

-x-

A few weeks later, a small group was sitting around a large oval table. At the head of the table sat Sir Aldrick, ceromaster and head of the ceromancers guild. To his right sat Chalis Arayvi, Headmistress of Hekas Institute and to his left sat Roshani Gwenneg, Mystmistress and head of the Myth Guild. Also present were Senka Arzarax, the Hematomistress, Olvris Omega, the Arithmaster and Goran Dubravkov, the Geomaster.

The ceromaster opened the meeting. "Welcome everyone to this meeting. I'm glad that you all have been able to come.. Now onto the subject matter, have any of you had any results tracking down our mysterious mage?"

The arithmaster looked unsure...

"Please do tell what you have found, Olvris." said the old ceromaster.

"Sir Aldrick, I had set various adepts onto the subject. Sadly their work had little result. And though I know that it might be very insignificant, we now know for a fact that the mage was born before the Harvest Moon".

After the arithmaster had spoken Sir Aldrick looked thoughtful for a brief moment. then he asked: "Can anyone add to this?"

Goran Dubravkov let it known that he wanted to speak. After a brief "Yes?" from the ceromaster he began:

"Like Olvris, I had set various adepts onto the task. Every time we came close to his location we were trapped into a magical web that forcefully misdirected our attempts. Perhaps his magic does not want us to find him... We are not sure about that though."

"I can add to that." said the hematomistress. "We had mixed a copy of a ceromantic piece with the blood of an animal to use in a blood-trailing ritual. However as soon as we caught onto his trail a magical force of some sort was trying to divert our attention. We are fairly sure that it isn't the boy's own magic that caused the trail to misdirect."

"This one is weird" the Mystmistress said. "I half and half had expected that your track methods would turn up to be void. I had set phrenomancers onto the task, and after a week trial and error they discovered that there is an alien presence in his mind... Very weird. Also, our auramancers are suspecting that the magic that seemingly prevents normal tracking methods must be some weird combination of hematomancy and wizardry that cannot be his own doings."

The ceromaster hummed thoughtful. Then he said: "If wizards are involved things might get a lot more complicated. Not that we cannot easily overpower them... Yes, it may be quite a challenge to get him trained in our ways without them knowing."

The group nodded. "Especially with their bigoted views on magic." Said Senka sarcastically.

Chalis Aravi shot a stern look towards the hematomistress and said evenly: "That may be as you say, but the fact remains that the boy needs our training, if only for the simple fact that their magic won't be compatible with his without him knowing our slight modifications to their wands. If the wizards discover that, the secrecy of our society may as well be at risk."

"Yes, yes, Chalis," bristled Senka: "We all know that those stick waving idiots are under the impression that they're oh so high and mighty, even though their magic is so weak that they need amplification to work around their little problem. I may hope however, that you haven't become so delusional to consider it to be a possibility that those weaklings can really get into a position in which they are able to pose a threat to our world, do you?

"But Senka," Hekas Headmistress argued: "I agree that wizards have lesser magic than we, but their methods can be quite affective, even though they need their amplifiers. They can kill by using their wands, you know, and if they develop their methods to a higher level, they might as well discover the entrances to our world."

The ceromancer shot both women a stern look but the hematomancer ignored it squarely, and responded in a tone laced with disdain. "Yes, Yes, they can kill with their sticks. How long do they take? let me guess, one dot five second? I can snuff out your candle in less. Besides..."

"Enough!" said the ceromancer with finality. "Perhaps now is a good time to adjourn the meeting. If you all pleas keep searching, yes? That'll be nice."

All attendants stood up from their chair and walked out of the conference room.


	3. Part I: The Search: Chapter 3

In the underground city of Naraka, far below the surface of India, sat a small group in a faraway corner of the city's public scrollery. The group had been breathed into life to act as a research- and covert operational team, its members being handpicked by the head of the Myst Guild, Mystmistress Roshani Gwenneg. The group, bearing the name "Operation Mystmage" had been founded, just for the occasion, and consisted of seven adults, four females and three males, and their teenage apprentices, four boys, three girls. The plan was to infiltrate the wizarding world to search for signs indicating a child who was said to possess extraordinary magical powers.

The only problem with the plan was that most of the people, who were born underground, so seldomly left the safety of their world that they hadn't the slightest idea of how the world above theirs had developed. Besides, if they decided to go to the Other World, they certainly didn't prefer to mingle with the wizards for various reasons.

Luckily the goblins were an organized lot. During the centuries they had been filling countless scrolls with information regarding wizarding culture. They were their only direct link to the Wizarding World since they run banks in both worlds.

Although goblins had written down an accurate assessment of wizarding society, their scrolls were often filled with snide remarks regarding arrogant wizards who were of the opinion that every non-human being was far below them in intelligence and magical giftedness, even though some of them knew that goblins didn't need wands to work their magic. According to the Goblin Archives, a wizard never said the name of a goblin. To them they looked exactly identical and were not worthy to be treated as human beings. To most wizards, werewolves were considered to be "dark filthy beasts", and a house-elf was a little bugger to vent ones anger and frustration onto.

-x-

"Hey Mwandu, can you please pass me the file on wizarding education?" asked a boy with an indigo ponytail.

"Sure Zefir." said Mwandu while handing it over. "You do know that our names are just to uncommon to pass as proper wizarding names do you?"

Zefir shrugged: "Just what are proper wizarding names?"

"Dunno." the other boy said absentmindedly while he peered over the contents of a scroll.

"I guess that international speaking any Latin, Slavic or Ancient Greek name goes." said a blond haired girl who sat at the other side of the table.

"They call that proper?" another girl giggled. "Masr! That is so hecknayed."

One of the adults joined into the conversation. "That is only partly correct, Urakhi. A lot of the so-called pure-bloods have those sort of names. They often translate to words like Powerful, Ruler, profanities and things most wizards consider to be dark."

"Profanities?" the teens giggled.

"Sure," said another adult, quite seriously. "The middle name of the previous Archimagus, who's parrents were wizards, was Merda, which is Latin and translates to shit."

The teens shared a good laugh. Then one of them asked: "Anyways, how are we going to get rid of the inhuman parts of our bodies? I don't fancy taking a tonic every hour or so."

"No worries." Said a woman who peered over a map of some sorts. "We are undergoing a temporal hematomantic metamorphosis. That will get rid of "unnatural" colored hair and such. On top of that, they are casting an Illusion field on everything else that remains."

"Cool!" Said Zefir. "I just read in here that most of their children attends one of their magical boarding schools. If we are to roam their cities we surely will get questions why we're not in school?"

"Oh, not a problem," said Uraki. "We just say that we are home schooled. Some kids who have extremely rich parents are home schooled after all."

"That may pose a problem," one of the men said. "Nearly all their home schooled children are so called pure-bloods. If you are going to imply that your parrents are rich enough to have you home-schooled, you have to act quite the little snob and play their petty political games. Besides, if they discover that you're not on their pure-blood registry, it may as well blow your cover."

"What are we going to say then?" Asked Zefir

"let me see.." mused Mwandu. "We're foreigners. We come from a country with a less organized wizarding society. There are no schools in our country so we are home schooled. Our father/mother is here on a business trip?"

"Wow Mwandu" said another girl admiringly "That's a well thought out cover story."

"I agree." said one of the adults. "Just fill in the gaps and we're done."

-x-

For three weeks various members of the Mystmage Operation Team could be seen sitting in the public scrollery, They had been using Speed-reading crystals, and other tools that made them absorb the vast amount of information more quickly. Several adult members of the team had been conspiring with the goblins via whom they had acquired various wizarding items of which some had been modified to suit the needs and magic of the team, such as local wizarding robes from various countries, wands that were to unrecognizable to pinpoint the maker and various kinds of trade ware and so on.

They also had acquired vaults at the wizarding branche of the goblin bank, in which they had deposited a lot of the gathered items and a mountain of Deben that had been exchanged into the wizarding world's currency.

Finally they had made enough preparations to be able to leave. Each mentor and their apprentices would travel through the wizarding communities of one of the Other World's 'continents'. They all wore communication bracelets so that they would be able to inform each other of their position and progress. Also they all wore an emergency orb that would transport them to the nearest branch of Gringotts when activated.

They would travel to their first destination by using the Goblin Underground, a world wide transportation network consisting of miles and miles of railroad that connected all the different Gringotts branches with each other.

After they said goodbyes to their friends and families each duo stepped into an enchanted mine cart and off they went.

-x-

The two had visited the various wizarding communities on the mainland of Europe but hadn't found a single indication towards the mage they were trying to track down. The other couples of the team who had been traveling along the other continents hadn't sent a success report either.

Zefir and his mentor were now contemplating to leave the mainland and set foot onto war torn Britain, which they had avoided because of the various rumors they had caught during their travels. Britain's wizarding community was desperately in need of suppliers and people who were willing to help to repair the damage. However most people seemed to be too scared to set a foot onto the Isles because of a certain You-Know-Who, who had caused havoc amongst their wizarding and non-wizarding societies.

What was most curious about the situation that had been plaguing Britain was that this You-Know-Who, or whatever he was called, had, according to the rumors, mysteriously vanished. The two magi suspected that there was more to the tale, but that those details had been carefully put under wraps by the British wizarding government.

They were the least bit scared to end up in a war-like situation. After all they were extensively trained in the art of combat. They were more afraid that the British people were very tight lipped towards strangers because of the general distrust that always seemed to surface when people tried to survive in a time of war. They just weren't sure if their presence would be welcomed.

"Master, Are you sure it is wise to go to Britain?" Asked Zefir while he turned the page of a travelers booklet.

"Do not doubt my judgment, Apprentice." The mentor said. "I have a gut feeling that there's something out there we ought to investigate."

"You mean, about that person bearing that ridiculous name, who is rumored to have vanished from the face of earth?"

"That isn't his real name of course, you fool." his mentor, Mister Santhen, said sharply. "I wonder though, it is not a common practice to start a war and not finish it, since that would be a total waste of funds."

The teenager nodded thoughtfully for a moment. Suddenly he looked up towards his master and said: "Britain is not exactly economically stable at the moment. If we are really going there, we might as well come up with a better, more suitable cover story.

"hmm.. let me see." began the adult. "I can pose as a Swiss potioneer, and you can pose to be my apprentice. If there are a lot of wounded there will be a severe shortage of healing potions."

"So, we are actually going to help them with their post-war rebuilding?" Sefir asked with a tinge of astonishment.

"It's the easiest way to make the people trust us." Mister Santhen replied.

"So, we are going to warple to Switzerland tomorrow and request a portkey to London?"

"Yes, Apprentice, after we have the goblins draw up the necessary paperwork."

"Well, in that case, I'm calling it a night."

"Sleep well, my apprentice."


	4. Part I: The Search: Chapter 4

The portkey landed them into what seemed to be an office of some sorts. It had bare walls and a minimum of furniture. There were two chairs that were standing before a counter. Behind the counter sat a bored looking, middle aged witch who was reading a magazine titled "Witch Weekly". She was so engrossed in reading an interview with a certain wizard named Gilderoy Lockhart that she didn't notice the two newcomers that had just portkeyed in.

"hum hum." said Karl Santhen as a way to let the witch know that they were there.

Instinctively she drew her wand and uttered the first spell that came to her frighted mind. "Stupify!"

Karl Santhen immediately dodged the spell which jolted towards the wall. However when the spell reached the wall it bounced back straight into the direction where Zefir stood.

Zefir who wanted to dodge, or shield with a flick of his modified wand, knew that he shouldn't blow his cover just yet. After all, the Protego Charm was supposed to be of moderate difficulty, and as he played the role of a fourteen year old, home schooled potion apprentice, neither of his options would be available without raising questions. Therefore he just let himself hit with the spell.

"Oh! I'm sorry sir. I'm truly sorry." Stammered the witch who went as white as a sheet as soon as she realized that she had attacked a defenseless child.

"The poor lad.. must be in a state of shock right now." she mumbled, more to herself then to the man who was standing at the other side of the counter.

Mister Santhen clacked his tongue in a gesture of impatience and snidely said with a thick Swiss accent, "Well, are you going to enervate him, or should I do so myself?"

The witch paused her mumbling and said, albeit a bit dazed, "Yes, of course Sir. I shall enervate your son."

"Apprentice." Karl Santhen cut in while the witch shot a quick finite towards the boy who played his role masterfully by sending the witch a few fearful looks while tears were glittering at the corners of his eyes.

"Sirs, I'm really sorry for what happened." The witch said reverting to the professionalism that was required for her job. "I figure that with the war and so, I have become a tad too paranoid. Anyway, Welcome to Britain...."

Then she seemed to fall into lecture mode, and started to recite a text that she seemed to have learned by heart.

"You are in the temporary office for international port-key travel in the British Ministry of Magic, Level Six, Department of Magical Transportation. By standing on British grounds you have agreed to abide by the British law until you leave these grounds.

You have also agreed to be responsible for any minors you bring into our country, and their eventual unlawful behavior.

You are obligated to be tried under Veritaserum before you leave this office so that we can be sure of your allegiances.

Also by British law you are forbidden to leave the country unless you use a Ministry regulated Port-key, which means you have to return to this office when you decide to leave these grounds."

The witch took a stack of papers from under the counter and asked, "Is everything clear?"

The two nodded and Karl murmured, "Strict laws you British have."

"I'm sorry sir." the woman said, while rummaging through the papers. "its because the war, you know."

Finally she seemed to have found what she was looking for and asked, "Name?"

"Karl Brower."

"And the boy?"

"Anton." Said Zefir. "Anton Sommers."

"How old are you?"

"Fourteen Ma'am."

The witch then fell into a lecture about the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Wizardry and how Anton should not perform magic unless he was attacked by Death Eaters. She went on and on about the boy not performing magic, especially not in close proximity of other children. All in all it took the witch more then two hours to finish her legal mumbo-jumbo. When she was finally done and had asked them a few questions under veritaserum, she handed them a port-key to the Leaky Cauldron where they were supposed to be staying as long as they stayed within the confines of the country.

-x-

"Karl, I've found some insects in our rooms." Said Zefir after he came back from putting their luggage into the rooms they had reserved.

The mentor nodded, recognizing one of their code sentences. His apprentice was saying that there were listening charms placed into their rooms which meant that they have to be careful with what they say or block the charm.

"I will see what I do about them." replied the mystmage. He then fished an envelope out of one of his pockets and put them on the table with a small gold key. "Here Anton. Go into the Alley please and give this to the goblins. Also take some Galleons out and go have some fun. Meanwhile I'll see if they can use the help of a Potioneer. Be careful."

Zefir easily caught the coded message: "You are dismissed. Take this to the goblins then go mingling with the locals and see what you can find. Do not blow your cover."

The teen nodded, took the items from the table and went for the entrance of Diagon Alley.

-x-

"I won't go there if I were you." Called an older looking boy at the moment Zefir walked towards the entrance of Knockturn Alley. The mage turned back and asked in his heavy Swiss accent. "Why not? The apothecary is in there no?"

Not that it had escaped his mind that there seemed something "wrong" with the side alley. As soon as he had set foot on Diagon Alley he saw how people tended to even avoid looking into that direction. As a foreign kid he wasn't supposed to remark such little details, nor was he supposed to know what was in there and why it should be avoided.

Therefore he had decided to just go there and see how people would react. It was a perfect alibi to have some conversation with one of the locals, and he was lucky that it was a teenager who took it upon himself to warn him. Lucky, because teenagers were less guarded, less cautious, and less afraid of strangers.

The older boy strolled towards the foreigner and said: "You're not one of them aren't you?"

Zefir shot a confused look towards the boy and asked, "One of who?"

"one of You-Know-Who's." the boy almost whispered while he skittishly glanced around.

"Sorry friend." Said Zefir. "I am not really sure whatever you're talking about."

"Oh, never mind, you're not from around ain't ya?" the other boy asked curiously.

"Nah, i'm from Switzerland." Zefir replied.

"Wow, must be great living there." the older boy said. "Anyway, name is Adrian, Adrien Belby."

"Anton." said Zefir. "Mind telling me what's wrong with going there?"

"Sure Anton." The other said. "That street over there has a bad reputation. It's considered to be Dark Wizard's territory. By going there you practically admit that you're a dark wizard, and believe me, that is not a good thing. You know, You-Know-Who and his followers were dark wizards. They have been terrorizing our country for over ten years. Today, any inclination of you being a dark wizard can grant you a ticket to Azkaban for being a possible You-Know-Who supporter."

Zefir nodded, and said contemplatively: "I don't really understand why your Ministry even allow such a place to exist. I mean, you imply that they're actively hunting down Dark Wizards, why let them keep a street of their own?"

Again, the other boy threw a quick glance around and said: "Don't tell anyone I said this, but our Ministry is corrupt onto its bone. You can't trust the lot of them, especially not the power-hungry Pure-Bloods who have claimed to be under the Imperious during the Dark Rebellion."

"Are you telling me that those Pure-Bloods are still working in high positions?"

The other nodded.

"Whoa, friend. That's terrible. Anyway, what happened to this You-Know-Who, or whatever his name may be. Have the Aurors gotten to him?"

"When was the last time you've read a newspaper?" the other boy asked in astonishment. "Anyway, The most powerful Dark Wizard of the last two centuries was killed by a mere baby."

"Friend! You can't be serious, are you?"

"I'm not joking around, Anton." The older boy said. "Don't ask me why, but the Prophet reported, about six months ago, that You-Know-Who went out to murder an entire family. He first killed both parents, and then went about to A.K their baby. The Baby survived, an impossible feat, and You-Know-Who was never seen thereafter.

"That's incredible." Zefir said. "How did he survive, and what exactly happened to You-Know-Who?"

The other boy shook his head. "No one is really sure about that. No one, except Professor Dumbledore Perhaps?"

"Who is Professor Dumbledore?" Zefir asked curiously.

"Headmaster of Hogwarts, and the most powerful Light Wizard alive." the other boy replied. "Anyway, I got to go. Need to run an errand for my dad."

"Farewell my friend. Perhaps we meet again someday." Zefir said while shaking the other boy's hand. "Can you point me to the Apothecary please?"

The other boy nodded and pointed to where Diagon Alley went around a corner. "There. Farewell, Anton."

Then he walked into the direction of Gringotts and entered the building.

Zefir decided to head back to the Leaky Cauldron to report his newfound information to his mentor. While he was walking towards the exit of the Alley he thought about the conversation he just had. "Children can be so useful as sources of information." he mused. He remembered that he had been so utterly disgusted when his mentor had decided for his apprentice to pose as a kid. Now that he looked back on the whole ordeal, he figured that it was just another streak of brilliance from his mentor, the mentor he had chosen after he had graduated from school. Since then he had always doubted if he had made the right choice. Now, all his doubts had vanished. He knew he was in an apprenticeship with the right person, and he was glad for it.


End file.
